Crimson Bliss
by Mechhasylum
Summary: Rachel Berry feels like she is losing control. She sees only one way to fix that.
1. Part Un: Bad Habit

_**Crimson Bliss**_

**Warning: Self-harm. Don't like? Please don't read.  
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Glee. *sigh***

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She never stood a chance. She fell victim to the dark depths of her own mind. Her mind was filled with the helpless feelings of a small child, yet it had also held the deep determination of a goal-driven adult. The severe hunger and desire for control she'd lost was almost too much to handle.

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Rachel Berry had never felt so vulnerable in her entire life. She'd always prided herself on being composed, the perfect picture of poise. Yet, she was locked in a bathroom stall, sitting on a toilet, telling herself that crying wasn't an option. _Stars don't cry,_ her daddy Kobi, had always told her. _So toughen up. _She tried to listen to the words that chanted in her mind. At that moment, she had failed. Tears had fallen from her eyes and her body racked with sobs harder than any she'd had in a long while.

It wasn't just what Quinn had said in Glee that had made her turn and run from the room to seek refuge in the bath room. Quinn had told Rachel, along with the rest of their Glee club, that the reason no guy wanted her was because she lacked sexual prowess. Not to mention, she was crazy. It wasn't even because Finn had laughed and agreed with the head Cheerio that had caused Rachel to crumple. It was the combination of every insult anyone had ever thrown at her, the sexual skills (or lack thereof) comment was simply the final straw in Rachel's opinion.

Everyone felt that Rachel was an insane force of star in the making with a lethal combination of annoying and irrational mixed in. But that wasn't a fact. Rachel was a person. She wasn't impervious to the daily insults and the slushie facials; in fact, those acts broke her more than she'd ever admit.

She felt like she was losing control. Every time she got insulted, every time her parents shook their heads at her weekly progress reports, which were both academic and extracurricular, she felt her composure slip as she lost another precious bit of control.

She heard the door to her hiding place bang open, so she immediately shut off her sobs and tears so none of the unwanted visitors would know she was there.

"Did you see her face?" Rachel heard Santana ask. "It was priceless."  
"Like she didn't already know what people thought about her? She dresses like she's a grandmother." Kurt laughed.  
"No one would wanna tap that." Mercedes added. The room echoed with laughter, the rush of running water and gossip that Rachel was relieved to realize wasn't about her.

After a few minutes of random chatter, and what Rachel assumed was the 'girls' primping and posing in the mirrors, the water turned off, the door opened and the unwanted occupants shuffled out.

Rachel found that her mind continuously wandered to her distant cousin, Regina. She'd once told Rachel about her way to deal with all the stress, pressure, and pain that came from constantly losing control of her life, her solution was cutting. Rachel had never actually seen it as a viable option. Now she could see the appeal. Now she understood that she could create her own control.

She avoided both of her father's when she got home, claiming that she had to study for a Calculus test, which wasn't actually a lie. She really did have to study. She just didn't want them to bother her until they absolutely had to.

She hurried into her bathroom and quietly shut the door behind her. She didn't want to give Kobi and Thomas any reason to come upstairs. She rummaged in a drawer, but couldn't' find any razors or other sharp objects. She had to leave the bathroom. She headed to her desk and opened the bottom drawer which held a plethora of craft supplies, but most importantly, an X-acto knife. She carefully removed the silver scalpel shaped knife and let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She rushed back to her bathroom and locked the door behind her this time.

She was so nervous. She had no idea what to do. Well, obviously she knew, she wasn't an idiot. She didn't know how much pain would be involved. She'd never been a stickler for pain, as her tolerance had never been high.

She shook herself, not willing to let her nerves get the better of her and stop her decision. She needed to know if her cousin's solution would help her gain some semblance of control. A little pain would be worth it, she thought. She took a deliberately deep breath and turned her sink faucet on in case something went wrong or she freaked out.

She was just about to press the metal to her forearm when she realized that she didn't want her actions to be public knowledge. She set the knife on the counter and began to study herself in the mirror, thinking about which part of her body would be the best. She finally decided on her stomach, as it would be the easiest to hide. It wasn't like people looked at her stomach on a regular basis. Heck, people didn't look at her on any basis at all.

She grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol she kept in her medicine cabinet and cleaned the blade, after all, who knew the kinds of bacteria craft supplies carried. When the blade was sanitized, she carefully put it back on the counter, making sure only the handle was touching anything. She rolled up her sweater, resting it above where she planned to cut, because she really didn't want to explain why she had blood on her clothes to her fathers.

She held the blade delicately in her right hand, though she was shaking a bit. She knew how sharp X-acto knives could be, and it would be easy to slice the skin.

She pressed the sharp edge against her stomach before she could hesitate more. She reveled in the feel of the cold steel against the flesh there. Goosebumps began to surface; she felt a thrill tingle throughout her entire body. She'd never experienced anything so intense.

She built the courage to press harder on the blade and dragged it a centimeter across the flat expanse of skin. She instantly relaxed when she saw the tiny beads of blood that dotted the tiny incision.

She was amazed that she felt better. It felt like singing for the first time. Chilling, but happy. She enjoyed that she could control the amount of pain she experienced.

The line of claret began to slowly run down her stomach. She used her fingers to stop the blood from staining her skirt. She pressed on the wound with her other fingers until she was sure that it had stopped bleeding.

She took a cotton ball and but some of the rubbing alcohol on it. Slowly, she ran the cotton ball over the cut and inhaled a shaky breath. After a few swipes, the cut was free of blood. Rachel covered it with a piece of gauze and a bit of tape and rolled her shirt back down.

When she looked at herself in the mirror she noticed a distinct glow to her skin. Satisfied for the moment, she tucked the blade and rubbing alcohol in an area she knew neither of her father's would check.

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After a few weeks of Rachel's cutting, the glow was still there. The glee kids only just noticed.

"Berry, Berry, Berry." Puck said from behind her. "Who plucked your cherry?" She turned to see that he was grinning at her  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"Don't play dumb, Berry. You got laid, didn't you?" He quirked his eyebrow.  
"I don't have any idea what you are rambling on about, Noah." He scrunched his eyebrows together.  
"Rachel, what Puck is trying to say is, who did you lose your virginity to?" Mercedes asked bluntly.  
"Like I told Noah, I don't know what you are talking about. I'll have you know, my virginity is very much still intact." Rachel said before briskly walking away from the two.  
"I should have known. She probably just bought a new musical or some shit." Puck muttered.  
"Like I said before, no one would tap that." Mercedes laughed.

Rachel felt her throat constrict at the laughing words of Mercedes.

When Rachel returned home, she rushed to her bathroom. She opened the cabinet under the sink and removed the box where she hid the tools she used just the other day. She didn't hesitate today, she didn't really care about blood stains, she just cut.

Once.

Twice.

Three times. Deep gashes and angry red wounds now littered the area of her stomach.

Shivering from the adrenaline, she exhaled shakily. It took more every time and never lasted as long as she hoped.

She knew it was stupid, but she couldn't stop herself. She knew it would ruin the skin she had been keeping in flawless condition, but she wanted; no, she needed, to mar skin there. She liked having the reminder that she could rid herself of her pain, if only to replace it with physical pain. But still, she couldn't help the ache for a second of her sweet crimson bliss.

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**I really have no idea if this turned out good. My thoughts were all scattered, but I wanted to post it.  
The title of the chapter, Bad Habit is taken from the song of the same name by The Dresden Dolls. **


	2. Part Deux: Perfectly Flawed

**A/N: If it weren't for Lil0, and all the messages between us, part deux of this would still be an idea in my head. Lil0, I'm proud to say that you helped me want to finish this.**

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In hindsight, maybe Rachel should have taken the time to find a way to block the door. If she had, Mike wouldn't have been standing four feet from her. She had figured that no one would barge in because it was her free period and the girls in gym wouldn't be back for another 40 minutes. So, Really? She had no reason to.

But now that Mike was standing there, slack jawed like an idiot; she had begun to regret her initial thinking. It took her a few seconds to realize that he was staring at her stomach.

"Oh my god, Rachel. What happened to your stomach?" Mike asked with wide eyes as he took in the collage of faded pink scars and freshly scabbed over cuts that were _everywhere_ on her stomach. His mouth fell open again.

"Better question, Mike. What are you doing in the ladies locker room?" She asked as she placed her shirt over her previously exposed stomach.

"Did you do that to yourself?" He whisper demanded like he was trying his hardest not to startle her. His eyes were begging to her say no.

"Do you always answer a question with a question?"

"Rachel, did you do that to yourself?" He asked, much more gently this time.

"I got into a fight with a knife, and I lost." She deadpanned. "Now, kindly excuse yourself from the ladies locker room." She kindly demanded.

"What in the world happened to you?" She let out a breath, turned so she wasn't facing him, and pulled her shirt on again. So much for the shower she had intended to take.

"Just leave it alone, okay?" She grabbed her stuff and pushed around him, leaving him frozen.

Okay, now she was paranoid. _Mike knows_. She knew that he wasn't about to tell the entire school what he saw, he just wasn't that kind of guy. She wasn't worried about that. What she was worried about was him going to Miss Pillsbury.

Miss Pillsbury was all about involving the parents with their child's progress. Hence the weekly reports her dads received. Rachel really didn't need her parents to be involved with part of her life. What she needed was to find Mike before he got the chance to run his mouth to the schools mediocre guidance counselor.

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It was just her luck that she was unable to find him before she was required to be home. They didn't have Glee on Tuesday afternoons, so she had no way to talk to Mike anyway. For all Rachel knew, Mike had planned on speaking to Miss Pillsbury the next day.

She was nearly positive that she would have already been talked to by Miss Pillsbury and yelled at by her fathers, had Mike said anything so at least there was that.

She cocked her head to the side and studied her stomach, trying to see what area had no scars or cuts. She didn't want to cut over old scars unless she had to. Only three areas remained, _that_ surprised her. She'd never taken the time to actually _look_ at her stomach. It was simply because the sight made her sick. It disgusted her. Twisted her insides until she was sure they were about to be emptied onto her bathroom floor.  
_It was a small price to pay for the control she craved._

She chose between the three areas, and picked the one on her ribcage. With a now steady hand (because she'd had lots of practice now), she held her friend delicately between her index fingers and her thumb. With her free hand she held the sskin near where she planned to cut taut. She had found that when she held the skin in that way, the knife slid over the flesh with such ease.

She no longer needed to take a deep breath before she got to business. All it took anymore was just a simple press of the blade against the skin.

Six deep slashes later, she closed her eyes and sighed in relaxation. She dabbed at the cuts to keep the blood from running. It was a pain to clean off of the white surface of her sink. There was no thrill in the act of cutting any longer. It was just a tool in her never ending quest for control. It was simply means to a short lived end.

Rachel hated herself, but it was more than everyone else did. They hated her over things that no one could prove; rumors, hearsay. She hated herself because of the things that she did and who she was on the verge of becoming. It scared her to think she was losing herself to a game she had never intended on playing more than once.

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At school the next day, Rachel still couldn't find Mike and that entire situation was really starting to upset her. The more time she wasted looking for him, the more time he had to talk to Miss Pillsbury. And really? It was her business, no one else needed to butt in. She didn't need anyone's help. She had control over this.

When she saw Mike for the first time that day, he openly watched her, eyes hardly leaving her stomach. If he didn't knock it off, people would begin to get the wrong impression. Rachel was not about to let his being uncomfortable tarnish the image she had been working so hard to protect, even if people already thought lowly of her. She would have to bring that up as well.

He was the one that approached her, all sorts of nervous. He kept fidgeting and wouldn't look at her directly.

"So, um, can we talk about yesterday?" He asked quietly, his tone told her that he didn't really know how to go about talking about this subject, and that he was very hesitant.  
"Of course we can." She replied politely, offering him a small smile. They sat on a little bench in the hallway. He opened his mouth to speak but she just held up her hand. "Look, what you saw yesterday was nothing." He shook his head.  
"It wasn't nothing. I may not say a whole lot, but I'm not stupid. The fact that you think I am is slightly insulting." He rambled. "But that's not the point. The point is that you're hurting yourself, Rachel. And I'm more than a little worried." He continued. "And by all the cuts and scars you have, I'm going to guess that you've been doing that a lot."  
"I don't see how this has anything to do with you. I wanted to talk to you to ask that you not go to Miss Pillsbury about all this. Also, you should refrain from staring at my stomach whenever I am around, people are going to get the wrong idea."  
"I understand. I won't go to Miss Pillsbury." Rachel sighed. "If you tell me what's going on with you." She glared.  
"That isn't fair." She argued. "You can't just hand out ultimatums like that."  
"Rachel, please, just let me know what is going on." His voice begged. Rachel looked at him through her peripheral vision and sighed.  
"Fine." She looked down at her shoes. She took a breath and began to tell Mike what had happened the day she decided to cut the first time. He was shocked to say the least, and he was pissed.  
"I'm so sorry." He said, feeling guilty because he never did anything to stop what the people in glee said about her. "I didn't know. You always acted so strong."  
"I'm a good actress." She whispered.  
"I think you need to talk to someone." He said.  
"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"  
"I mean a professional. Some one that can help you." She shook her head.  
"It's not that easy, Mike." He placed his hand on hers.  
"I'm here for you, anytime you need me." He whispered.

He was determined to help her with this. He was going to do everything in his power to make things better for her, to make it so she didn't feel the need to cut anymore. But would it be enough?

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**Try not to hate me for that cliffhanger! This is about as scattered as chapter one. Maybe more so.**

**All the usual disclaimers still apply.**

**Please Review!**

**The title of this chapter, Perfectly Flawed, is taken from the song of the same name by Otep.**


	3. Part Trois: Scream

**I apologize for the long wait on this chapter. It took me a long time to get it written because it is hard to draw the emotions necessary. I promised Lil0 that an update was coming! I know this part is short, but part Quarte is being posted right after this.  
The good news about the wait is that I basically have all of the parts completely written.  
Thanks to everyone that has read and given feedback. It makes writing worth it.**

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The night mares were enough to nearly kill her. They were never ending, and nothing changed despite her trying. The outcome was always some varied account of everyone making her life hell to the point of death.

Her nightmares were the very definition of insanity. When in her waking hours, she constantly anticipated the moment nightmare and reality collided, and her own personal hell consumed her. It was inevitable, she knew.

The nightmares began almost immediately after she told Mike about her tormentors and their actions toward her. She was afraid that Mike was going to say something to the others, but he never did. He assumed the role of her protector, sticking up for her whenever someone so much as blinked wrongly in her direction. No one knew why Mike was so set on making sure she didn't get hurt. Everyone watched the two intently, keeping to themselves because no one had ever guessed that he had it in him to be aggressive.

Rachel couldn't decide which was worse, endless taunts or utter silence. Both were torture. Though now, she was aware that those silent faces had someone behind them wanting nothing more than to voice their ugly thoughts. And that hurt her.

No one cared that they hurt her more than she would ever admit. They only saw her as a freak, and they would never see anything more.

All she wanted to do was scream. She wouldn't though. She'd just add another slice to her collection. And for a minute she would forget.

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**I love all of you readers!  
The title of the chapter, Scream, is taken from the song of the same name by Zoegirl.  
*All the usual disclaimers apply.* Glee is not mine. This story line, and the events that happen are created by me. I'm simply using Ryan Murphy's characters.**


	4. Part Quarte: Rescue Me

She didn't consider what she was going through, what she was doing to herself, an addiction. It wasn't like that at all. It wasn't like the people the internet described. She didn't _need_ to cut. She just wanted to because it felt good. She was different. She _swore_ that she was different.

She did a bang up job of convincing herself, until there was no longer a clear spot on her stomach and she had to start slicing on her upper thighs. That's when she realized that she wasn't as different as she had made herself believe.

She didn't want this for herself. Not this obsession, addiction, _whatever_ it was. She just didn't want it.

Help. She guessed that she wanted it. But she wasn't willing to go to Miss Pillsbury or worse, her fathers. They wouldn't understand. They would just judge her and scold her for her actions.

She could always go to Mike and ask him to help. After all, he had offered. She could always take advantage of the offer. She just couldn't help but ask herself if it was too much to ask of Mike. She didn't want to burden him or bring him down in any way.

Maybe it was necessary. Rachel took a breath, overwhelmed by all the thought taking residence in the forefront of him mind. She needed a moment to gather her thoughts. Make them clearer, more concise. She'd only needed a tiny gash. Just one to catch her breath.

She shuddered, reveling in the small sensation. A smile formed as the goose bumps appeared on her arms. The end result was always her favorite part. That feeling? That was why she needed help.

She waited until after school to seek Mike out. She wanted to be able to speak with him alone. This was definitely _not_ something she was comfortable with talking about surrounded by unwanted, prying eyes and ears. Mike was the only person, save for herself of course, that knew about the dangerous destructive habit she had developed and she was inclined to keep it that way.

"Hello, Mike." Rachel said quietly, trying to ignore the eyes of the random people in the hall.

"Oh, hey Rachel. What's going on?" He asked, not looking up at her, busying himself with gathering books from his locker.

"It's just, um, I just need to speak with you." She stuttered.

"I'm kind of in a hurry her, Rachel." He said impatiently.

"Oh. Alright. I won't keep you. My apologies." She turned away from him, silently scolding herself for being stupid. She shouldn't have assumed that he would still want to help her.

"Wait," she stopped and slowly turned to face him. "What did you need to talk to me about?"

"I would prefer speaking with you privately." She said in a hushed whisper. "I'm not comfortable with being out in the open with this particular topic."

"Oh." He replied, understanding in his eyes. "I just need a minute. I'll meet you in the choir room?" He asked.

"Yes, of course." She agreed with a half hearted smile.

"Alright. Give me five minutes." He flashed her a smile then left her standing there dumbly at his locker. All the eyes she had previously tried to ignore were boring into her, mocking her now that Mike had seemingly walked away. It was as though they all took his departure as the symbol that he was leaving her alone, throwing her to proverbial dogs, all of which hungrily waited for her to stumble.

She glared at them, her eyes daring them to voice the things their eyes said. She despised the taunting silence that followed her everywhere she went. She knew that they still said things about her. She wished people would just say whatever to her face. It hurt less to know the words than it did having to guess what they were.

She stood up straight, chin held high she left those judgmental stares behind. She refused to show them any kind of weakness. She prided herself on her strong outward façade; she wouldn't let these people know that they got to her. She was determined not to let them see her break.

She glanced at the clock that sat on the wall behind the piano. She had been sitting in the choir room for ten minutes. She had let five minutes pass before she even went inside the room. It was easy to see that Mike just wasn't coming. She nearly let her shoulders slump in defeat, but she wasn't going to let him blowing off their conversation upset her. He was simply the next person in the long line of those who had left her to save herself. She was used to it, and frankly she should have seen it coming, definitely should have expected it.

She let out a breath, standing to leave the room when Mike ran in.

"Rachel, I'm so sorry! Did you know that the doors lock on the outside right after school? I tried the locker room doors, but since it isn't football season apparently those get locked too. It took a while of banging on the door for one of the janitors let me back in." He gave her an apologetic smile.

"Don't worry about it. I did not know that the doors are locked on the outside after school."  
"I didn't want you to think that I was bailing on you, but I didn't have your number to text you and let you know."

"Like I said, please don't worry about it. I understand completely." She assured him before sidestepping around him to exit the room.

"Where are you going?" He asked, a bit confused about her actions.

"I must be going, Mike. I apologize if I inconvenienced you in any capacity."

"I thought you needed to talk."  
"No, I'm fine now." She went to walk again. He took her hand to stop her.

"Rachel," He said softly. "talk to me." She looked at her shoes. "Please."

"Fine, but please remember that you've requested." He nodded. "I need help." She said so softly that he almost didn't hear her.

"Help with what?"  
"The cutting." She admitted. "It needs to stop. Please help me." She begged, a tear fell from her eye. He pulled her into a hug.

"Okay." He whispered, hugging her tighter.

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**Thanks so much for reading! I hope you review and let me know what you are thinking.  
The title of the chapter, Rescue Me, is taken from the song of the same name by Hawthorne Heights.  
*All disclaimers apply. This story line and the events within are mine.* **


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